Dead Authors for Tulip

Had there been any confrontation between
Your lies and your morality
There might have been something said
Or done
That you
Could have said
Or done
That wouldn’t have been taken from someone else
In another form
In another time
In another place
But your face
Can not reconcile
Lying down
With the stiff backed repose
Of morality you call
Your creative impulse
And it is an insult
That will not be forgiven
As you weave another tale
From the deception
That you
And all others like you
Play upon the the rest of us;
That you matter because you are creative
You are not creative
You are merely relatable
And lacking any confrontation
To the sunny estuaries of fiction
You call art
You will always be coming up with new ways
To say that good is bad
And bad is good
And that exorcised demons
Mean something
They don’t
But then again they do
And it’s all over now
Baby blue


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